


I Wonder If You’re Happy

by destructivememories



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Heartache, Lost Love, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24206749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destructivememories/pseuds/destructivememories
Summary: There were some things that Olivia Benson would always remember.
Relationships: Olivia Benson/Elliot Stabler
Kudos: 15





	I Wonder If You’re Happy

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been a while since I’ve written anything, however I felt the creative flow today and wrote this in an hour. 
> 
> I’m not ashamed to say that this fic made me feel tearful whilst writing, either from personal experience with heartache or just how I imagined their relationship to be. 
> 
> For an added bit of angst, I recommend listening to ‘I wonder if you’re happy’ by Rothwell whilst reading. I based a lot of the fic on lyrics from that song and boy is it a tear jerker. 
> 
> As always, constructive criticism & love is appreciated. 
> 
> Stay safe x

There was some things that Olivia would always remember. She would always remember the difficult cases, the heart wrenching cases, the triumphant cases. She would always remember the first time she had walked the streets of New York in the middle of the night. She would always remember the feeling of watching the sun rise. She would always remember a good bottle of red wine. But most of all she would always remember him. 

It had been a while since she had seen or spoken to him, but his face was still vivid in her memory, his voice still there, his smile etched in her brain, the feeling of his arms clutching her long after he had left, the sound of his feet walking on the wooden flooring in her apartment. 

For months after he had gone, she’d find herself looking for his face in crowds, searching for the same piercing blue eyes in complete strangers, listening for his laugh. Never finding or seeing him always left her deflated and she’d go back to her apartment, tuck herself into her armchair wearing his old sweatshirt and sob for hours. 

It was never meant to be anything more than a friendly working relationship, yet she’d suddenly find herself excited to see him, thrilled beyond belief if he had suggested after work drinks, just the two of them. And then it had escalated to flirty smiles, inside jokes and barely there touch’s. She’d tried to convince herself that it was all in her head, that the happily married man was just being polite, that they were nothing more than work colleagues yet she knew that the lingering looks and bumping of hands when they walked were something more. 

The algorithm of their friendship changed the night they had finally won a long drawn out case. They’d sat for hours in the back room of the precinct long after everybody had left for the day, spilling their deepest and darkest secrets, inching closer to each other, their fingers brushing together, the tension between them palpable. That was the night they had first kissed, their tongues entwined in forbidden lust. The kiss had ended as quickly as it started, he had pulled away, his lips red and bruised before leaving hastily out of the door leaving her sat there, confused and hurt. 

She knew deep down that they shouldn’t have kissed, knew that it was a massive mistake, yet that night as she lay in bed, she found herself thinking of him. Recreating the situation in her head, willing for time to be pushed back so she could re do it all again. Her thoughts and dreams interrupted when she remembered he had gone back home to his lovely wife in his lovely home. She had been nothing more than an error of judgment on his part. She cried herself to sleep that night. 

It had never been awkward between them. Despite him being a married man and father and most of all, her partner, he hadn’t treated her any differently than before the kiss. He would still flirt with her, still bump his hand against hers, still stare at her a little too long before blushing and looking down when she finally caught his eye. 

The day his wife told him he wasn’t happy with their marriage, was the day things changed dramatically. He had been in a bad mood all day, snapping at everybody but Olivia. She had felt his anger in the air between their desks and had meekly suggested an after work drink, just the two of them. The elation when he had accepted lifted her the through the day and she had been ready to burst by the time he had stood up, leant over her shoulder and told her to grab her coat. She had practically skipped out of the precinct, following him like a lost puppy. 

They were both tipsy by the time they had stumbled out of the bar and into a waiting cab. Against her better judgment she had asked for him to come back to her apartment. ‘Save the money rather than staying in a hotel’ she had told him whilst downing a whiskey. He had agreed - against his better judgment - and they had left the bar, hand in hand. He had been touching her the majority of the night, his fingertips drawing patterns into her wrist, his other hand on her leg, slowing inching further towards her inside thigh.

The remainder of the night went by in a blur of hungry eyes, curious fingers and unspoken guilt as their bodies fused together, melting into the mattress. His bad boy demeanour gone as he had thrust into her, her nails clinging into the skin on his back leaving deep scratches. Her moans muffled into his shoulders. He had kissed her after as they lay there tangled in the sheets, his fingers gliding through her hair, perspiration heavy on their skin. No words needed to be said, their actions spoke for them. She was the rebound. 

His wife had slowly become a permanent worry on Olivia’s mind. She had felt overwhelmed with guilt everytime they found themselves in bed as he drove her deeper into the mattress. But neither of them had mentioned his wife out loud. Her existence wasn’t important when they moulded together and moved as one. She wondered sometimes how he explained the lipstick marks on his collar or the nail marks on his neck when he went home to visit the kids as she sat in her armchair waiting for him to come back. It would be hours before he came back to her, a hint of guilt and regret on his face as he hung his coat up and adjusted his tie. He would be silent for a while, as if he was contemplating every life choice he had ever made before he would move to kiss her forehead and rub her arms. 

He had moved back home with his wife when Olivia realised she loved him. She knew deep down he didn’t love her, at least not in the way that he loved his wife. She was the other women and the thought of that ravaged every part of her. He had told her he was only moving back in for the sake of the kids but she knew that wasn’t true. He’d been distant and snappy with her. Until he told her after work one day that whatever they had was over, that he was trying to get his life back to normal, that his wife wanted to try again, she’d choked back the tears, nodded in agreement with him and left. There would be no more overnight stays, no more sneaky kisses, no more after work drinks for two. Only a work relationship that hung by a very thin thread. She got blind drunk that night and cried herself to sleep.

The more he pushed her away, the more she loved him. She sat night after night, torturing herself over the thought of him in bed with his wife. She’d write out texts and delete them seconds later, call but hang up before it rang. On the occasions where her heartache got to much, she’d drive to his house, sit outside and watch him from the street. Watch as he sat with his wife and kids at the dinner table. She’d stay until her  
sobs got to much and then she’d leave, drive home and stare at her blank apartment walls whilst he consumed her every thought. 

Olivia often wondered what her life would be like if she had never met him, never felt him in her, never fallen in love with him. She had never been one to be so in love with somebody that even the thought of them changed her completely. There was a reason her friends had told her to never get involved with somebody she worked with and this was it. Seeing him every day at the desk across from her, knowing they had shared such intense, intimate moments. She’d replay every conversation in her head that they had had whilst sitting in the window of her apartment until the talking turned to kissing and the kissing turned to the most passionate sex she had ever had. 

She would walk the streets of New York until the sun set, just to get out of the apartment where she’d shared so much with a man who thought very little of her. She cried so much and so often at the slightest things that Cragen made her take a week off. He had never asked her why she was so broken and she never bothered to tell him. She took the week as time to heal from her heartache, to forget about him.

And just when she thought she was getting over him, he turned up at her door, an overnight bag in one hand and a bottle of her favourite red wine in the other. Every feeling she had ever had for him came crashing back. His wife had kicked him out again he had told her. He begged and pleaded with Olivia for forgiveness and a second chance and she faced with him, she couldn’t say no and an hour later, they were back in bed making up for lost time. His fingers bruising into her as he traced patterns down her thighs with his tongue.

The night he told her he loved her was the night she knew she meant nothing to him. She had been laying there in post coital bliss, their fingers locked when he had whispered the three words into her hair. She’d hurt so much and for so long, dreaming of the day she’d hear him say it, that when he finally did, she knew he was lying. She had said it back, just in case. Just in case, deep down, maybe he did love her. 

She always knew at some point it would have to end again, she just didn’t realise it would end as quickly as it had begun. The flame had barely been reignited when he packed up and left leaving nothing more than the lingering scent of his aftershave and shattered memories. 

The heartache hit just as hard as before. She cried. Boy did she cry. She sobbed and cried and pleaded with herself to never let anybody else ever get to her like this. She sobbed and cried for their 12 year working partnership that had ended just like that. Sobbed and cried that he had left with no explanation, no apology, no final goodbye. 

She never really got over him, no matter how much she told herself she had. She wondered if he was happy, wondered if he was back with his wife or if he was alone like her.

Olivia still looked in crowds every now and again for him. Looked for those blue eyes, checked every face she passed, looking for any form of familiarity. 

And one day, there he was. 

Elliot Stabler.


End file.
